


Slingshot

by ProtoChan



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Anger Management, Female Friendship, Forests, Friendship, Games, Gen, Inspiration, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 08:22:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18007280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProtoChan/pseuds/ProtoChan
Summary: Sometimes, when people are pushed to their limits, they just need to blow off some steam. Apparently, that’s also true for fairies, as Regina learns. And as always, that lesson comes to her in the least likely of ways.





	Slingshot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DarkPoisonousLove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkPoisonousLove/gifts).



> Hey! For my 300 follower spectacular on Tumblr, I was requested by @darkpoisonouslove to write a fic of Regina and Tink that took place after Robin and “Mairan’s” departure in “Heroes and Villains.” I’ve never written for Tink before so this was a fun challenge. And while this story has no business being as long as it is, I really enjoyed putting it together. I don’t know how to describe this other than it’s…an experience. Here’s hoping it’s a good one! (Bonus points if you get the reference there!)

Snow White needs to learn that her advice isn’t as universal as she thinks it is.

 

Sure, a nature walk would sound nice to Snow. In addition to being the place where she fell in love, the woods were more or less her home for a few years – granted, unfairly so, but not the point.

 

That said, Regina hasn’t had to live in the woods for more than a few weeks at a time during long trips and missions to either capture or, more recently, aid the Charmings and her son.

 

And in all that time, not a moment has gone by where she hasn’t hated those very woods that served as her temporary shelter. Regina’s felt no guilt at being ungrateful for the shading the forest has provided from the sunlight, nor the cover given from the rainfall. It’s still gross, dirty, and unpredictable as well as filled with bugs that seem almost magnetically attracted to her at any given moment.

 

So why then, if Regina despises the woods, is she out here?

 

Well, to put it simply, while Regina despised the woods, Robin loved them.

 

Today’s search for the author had been just as fruitless as all that had come before it. Regina reached her wits end after just a single read through of the book, calling it a day on their search and leaving to go home in a huff of frustration. Undoubtedly, Emma picked up on her foul mood and let her mother in on her observation.

 

Apparently tattling runs in the family.

 

Less than a half hour later, Regina received a phone call from Snow suggesting a nature walk as a means of cooling down and clearing her mind. And before Regina could ask her if the sleepless nights of new motherhood had made her go crazy, a sudden flow of memories halted her tongue.

 

Memories of Robin.

 

Robin was no stranger to the fact that Regina hated forests. She had certainly ranted to him enough times about the after effects of mother nature’s wrath on her clothes and hair over the course of their numerous journeys to confront her sister. Still, he often promised, with enough time, he’d make Regina love the woods as much as he did. The promise did little to counter Regina’s teasing vows that that would never come to pass, but some part of her had hoped that one day, he could help her at least appreciate them more.

 

It’s been tough without him, Regina can admit to herself. For someone who has lived in Storybrooke for such a small amount of time, Robin’s managed to imprint himself most everywhere in town. Even without his physical presence, she sees him standing by the counter at Granny’s, sitting on the floor next to her fireplace, and leaning against the table in her vault with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Not to mention, he’s all over her office too, the very place she spends the bulk of her time working as she tries to get back some piece of their happiness.

 

But he’s not in any of those places, Regina quickly reminds herself. He’s in another state with the mother of his child, and she can only hazard a guess as to how his life is going. Thoughts of whether or not she gave them enough money to get by, if they were able to navigate the city safely, and whether or not he has a job plague her nights and nights like the tides plague a beach.

 

And the rare occasions where she entertains the notion of Robin moving on from her have a tendency to singe the items that are unfortunate enough to be in her grasp in those moments.

 

How she’s managed to only somewhat lose it now after three weeks is a wonder to herself, and probably everyone else too.

 

And while the vagary of Robin’s life away from her is hard to accept, when she’s not constantly reminded about her quest to bring about her own happiness – which hopefully would include him – thinking about how he was here at all soothes her, strangely enough. It’s like a child remembering how a lost toy once soothed them. It’s not a full-on success, but it’s not a fruitless endeavor either.

 

So maybe taking a little nature walk – taking a step away from her mission, getting out of her own head, and going someplace Robin always wanted her to go – would be enough to soothe her in that same vein.

 

Regina’s willing to bet Snow – the ever-doe eyed romantic that she is – thought about that when she asked.

 

If she wasn’t right, Regina would’ve gagged at the saccharine notion.

 

But she was right, and so, with her rage momentarily subsided by the wistful recounts of love, Regina agreed to go on a walk – though by her insistence as to avoid another one of Snow’s hope talks – alone.

 

That said, it’s now been almost forty-five minutes since she started this walk, and the goodwill her memories created for the woods has long since disappeared. Now, all Regina can find herself able to take in are the broken bits of leaves embedded onto her peacoat and the faint smell of animal scat that follows her wherever she goes.

 

And while her thoughts of Robin were soothing at first, it only took about a half hour long before those questions that plagued her to rear their ugly heads once more. Currently, anxieties over Robin’s possible situations, resignation to the fact that he’ll need to move on from her, and depression over his absence all culminate in a simmering rage.

 

Two years ago, to settle such a rage, she’d have been content to mess with her rivals and thirty two years ago, she’d burn down their homes. But that’s not the course of action of a hero and furthermore, it’s now what Regina wants to do.

 

So now, instead of being calmed, she finds herself angrier than before, and at a further loss for what to do about it.

 

All in all, Regina’s pretty sure she’s had enough of mother nature for one day.

 

She makes a lazy circle as she turns around to go home. A step is taken in the direction of her car, and then another.

 

Right before she takes a third step, a loud sound goes off.

 

Regina freezes and analyzes the situation.

 

The sound is loud and messy – definitely nothing that sounds like more than she can handle herself – but Regina’s not quick to let her guard down all the same.

 

After all, if life in Storybrooke has prepared her for one thing, it’s to expect the unexpected.

 

She looks around, but encounters nothing.

 

“Hello?” she calls out to the seemingly barren forest. There’s this pinch of vulnerability in her voice that she despises, but is nonetheless existent. No one answers, but the sound goes off again moments later. This time, out of the corner of her left eye, she sees something shimmering in the distance rise and fall.

 

Regina slowly stalks towards the spot, her hands raised and ready to create a barrier should the need arise. When she’s almost there, just at the bottom of a small peak in the landscape mostly hidden by leaves and branches, the noise goes off again – now even louder – and the metallic object – illuminated by its reflection of the sun – raises once more. It lowers onto her side of the peak. This time, Regina picks up on something as what is now clearly a metal cylinder falls in front of her. It somehow confuses her even further.

 

That’s because the cylinder has, stretched across its center, a wrapper for creamed corn that she’s encountered at least once a month at the grocery store.

 

The can lands with little impact on the soil, but before Regina can examine it any further, she hears an exclamation.

 

“Damn it! That was my last one!”

 

The voice sounds familiar. There’s a touch of an accent and a pinch of softness to it, but its weathered too and if Regina’s right about who it is, she can understand why.

 

With a gloved hand, Regina picks up the thankfully clean can and strides forward. She pushes the branches that separate the two sides of the peak aside so she can pass through. What – or rather, who – meets her on the other side isn’t a shock, but still leaves Regina with more questions than answers.

 

There, on the other side of the peak, is Tinker Bell.

 

Tinker Bell – or Tink, as Regina’s acclimated herself to saying – stands behind a stump that separates the two of them. Just like with Regina’s peacoat, pieces of crunched leaves are scattered like polka dots around her messy grey sweater and skinny jeans. However, Tink seems more comfortable with her mess than Regina is with her own. Across her face, Tink’s brows are furrowed, but Regina can tell that it’s not because of her presence here – or at least not fully.

 

“Regina,” she says. “What brings you here?” Her words hold no harshness, but there’s a healthy amount of curiosity there.

 

“Just taking a walk to clear my head,” Regina answers. She can’t keep the air of lamentation, the lamentation that all but announces her failure to do just that, at bay as she speaks.

 

And of course, Tink takes all of two seconds to pick up on that.

 

“So you came here of all places?”

 

Needless to say, that’s now what Regina expects to hear her say.

 

Regina places her hands on her hips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“What it means is that your belly aching about camping out in the jungle back in Neverland still haunts my nightmares. So what I’m wondering is what got you to come here?”

 

Regina finds herself flustered and at a loss for a good rebuttal to Tink’s point. She doesn’t want to get into things, not even knowing where to begin to explain herself.

 

So instead, she deflects.

 

“Well, what are you doing here?”

 

Suddenly, Regina remembers the weight in her left hand. It doesn’t take long before she puts two and two together.

 

“This yours?” she asks, holding out the can.

 

Tink’s face instantly lightens upon seeing it.

 

“Yes! Thanks for finding it.”

 

Tink comes up to Regina and takes the can out of her quite willing hand. For a moment, as if to further perplex Regina, she studies the can with a satisfied look on her face. Then, quite casually, she walks back to the stump and positions the can squarely onto its center. She then walks toward another stump right across the clearing. Regina follows her with naught but her eyes, trying to figure out just what Tink is up to. When Tink finally arrives at the second stump, Regina at last notices something.

 

Atop that stump sits close to a dozen rocks as well as a slingshot.

 

Regina walks over to Tink with something that’s not quite a smirk nor admonishment – yet not at all free from judgment – on her face.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

Tink shrugs, her eyes remaining on the can across from her. “Hitting cans with a slingshot.” Regina sees Tink look at her through the corner of her eye. “What?” she groans.

 

“Okay. Now why are you catapulting rocks at tin cans? I mean, I guess it’s one way to recycle, but I imagine there’d be less…primitive ways for a fairy to enjoy herself.”

 

An eye roll rewards Regina for her question. “There are, but here’s something they don’t tell you about being a fairy in Storybrooke: They’re basically nuns and there’s a lot of things nuns can’t do. And if you don’t want anything getting back to Blue, you’re left with even less.” Regina’s still bewildered by the choice of hobbies and she must not hide it well, for Tink feels the need to go on. “Look,” she says in a huff, “some Lost Boys taught me how to do it back in Neverland and i just keep up with it.”

 

Regina quirks her brow. “I imagine you learned a lot of things in Neverland, but I’m pretty sure you haven’t built your own fire or hunted for your dinner since you got to Storybrooke. So why are you still doing this of all things?”

 

“I like it.” Tink returns her attention to her slingshot and the can across the way, as if that answer cleared everything up.

 

“You…like it?” She’s tempted to scoff at the sheer simplicity of the statement and just barely stifles the urge.

 

“Yeah. Not all of it,” Tink goes on to explain. “It’s annoying to find a spot where you can comfortably get your finger around the band while balancing the rock, but when you do, it’s nice, and if your aim ‘isn’t bad, there’s nothing sweeter than when the rock hits the target.” Tink take a deep breath. “Besides,” she mutters darkly, “I’m not really looking for strictly enjoyment right now, per se. I’m looking to let off some steam.”

 

“Something going on with you and Blue?” Regina guesses. The way Tink’s face scrunches up lets Regina know that her assessment is correct.

 

“I don’t know how, but those past few decades somehow made her even more bossy than when I lost my wings. I mean, I finally get my hands on some magic again and Blue won’t even let me play around with it unless there’s some kind of witch threatening the town. I swear, that book of rules of hers must be taller than it is wide because if it were any further up her ass, we’d get to climb it and see Anton’s home. And if she keeps calling me Green again, I swear I’ll take that book and-” Tink stops herself, takes another deep breath, and crouches down until she’s in a squatting position. From the looks of it, she’s nearly parallel with the can on the other side of the clearing. Neither she nor Regina speak as she takes aim and then fires.

 

A clank which Regina is sure is pleasing to Tink’s ears sounds off as the rock hits the side of the can. The can twirls a few times, edging closer and closer onto the edge of the stump before finally falling off.

 

“Not my best, but not bad either,” Tink says, a fair amount of satisfaction in her voice and a grin across her features.

 

Regina’s less amused, though far from venomous. It’s closer to watching Henry groan after eating his ice cream too fast and getting a brain freeze after she warned him not to.

 

“So what? You pretend that can is Blue?”

 

Tink shrugs again. “It’s better than doing it to the real one, don’t you think?”

 

“Depends on the day,” Regina retorts.

 

That gets a hearty laugh and one of the biggest smiles Regina’s ever seen out of Tink.

 

“You’re not wrong, but still I’d rather not end up in jail for chucking a fireball at her. So this is handy as a substitute. Got me through Neverland basically and it helps me deal with Blue these days when she’s more annoying than usual.” She studies Regina’s face – much to Regina’s disdain – before she gets up to go find her can again. “Looks like you could some of that yourself. Want a try?” She holds the slingshot and a rock up to Regina.

 

Regina quirks her brow once more. She doesn’t fight the chuckle that penetrates her voice as she answers the ludicrous prospect. “You want me to use a slingshot on a tin can? Do I look like a hobo?”

 

It’s now apparently Tink’s turn to be confused. “What’s a hobo?”

 

“Never mind,” Regina dismisses, rolling her eyes. She wonders if this is how Emma feels when Hook asks her about some reference or device from the modern world. She then goes further to project some of her memories to Robin over the same and instantly regrets that decision. “But anyway, I’m not firing off a slingshot.”

 

“Come on,” Tink encourages. “It’ll do you some good.”

 

“I don’t think so, but have fun.” Regina makes to turn away and even starts to navigate the path Tink used to get as deep into these accursed woods as they had when Tink speaks once more.

 

“You need to let some of that anger out Regina. Everyone know Robin’s absence is killing you.”

 

Regina stops in her tracks. Instantly, that anger comes boiling back like a thermometer in relation to a fever. Her fists ball and the temptation to to blow up is almost too enticing to ignore.

 

But much to her relief, that’s exactly what she does.

 

She takes a deep breath as to not snap at Tink – God knows it’s a miracle their friendship, if she can even call it that, isn’t already in shambles and she’d rather it not become so – and then turns around to meet a now standing Tink.

 

“What do you want me to say?” Her voice is harsh – not close to breaking, but not exactly far from it either.

 

To her surprise, the pointed expression on Tink’s face isn’t phased in the slightest.

 

“Nothing,” she says in a matter-of-fact fashion.

 

“What?” Regina can almost feel a laugh born of exasperation born her confusion.

 

Still, Tink’s resolve doesn’t waver.

 

“I know the crowd you hang around. You’ve talked plenty to them. The Charmings – they’re nice, don’t get me wrong – but you don’t need to talk about your problems. Not right now, at least. You’ve no doubt said all you can say and I don’t have anything to offer or frankly the patience to listen. So I don’t think you need to talk or even clear your head. No, you need to let off some steam.”

 

After weeks upon weeks of hope speeches, hearing something aside from one is refreshing. Regina’s impressed – to a point.

 

But all the same, she’s pretty sure that that point doesn’t necessitate the tool that Tink still holds.

 

“And you think this slingshot will do it?”

 

“You never know until you try,” Tink says, shrugging. “Look, I know you don’t want to use a fireball or dark magic or anything and lose all that progress you’ve been making. I get that. But there’s no reason you can’t cut loose in a way that doesn’t hurt anyone.”

 

Regina aims for a retort, but finds that she can’t quite muster one up. To tell the truth, she’s intrigued.

 

So against her better judgment, she goes to Tink and takes the slingshot.

 

Tink grins – a chipper and satisfied grin – right before repositioning the can once more.

 

After a brief, but purposely drawn out sigh, Regina stands by the stump where Tink shot off last time, waiting for instructions.

 

When Tink returns, she takes a finger and lowers it.

 

“You’ve got to crouch,” Tink informs.

 

An instinctual groan leaves Regina’s throat – not that she would instruct it any other way. Tink lightly pushes her hand downward against Regina shoulder and Regina follows its flow. Her knees land semi-comfortably against the dirty ground. She’s grateful that she has gloves on when Tink prompts her to pick up the slingshot. It doesn’t look dirty, but old and just a little big gnarled – no doubt a product of time. All the same, she doesn’t want to touch it directly – nor indirectly for that matter.

 

“It won’t bite.” Regina side eyes Tink, but does reluctantly pick the slingshot up. She can feel the cracks and wears in the wood through her glove and feel the groove in it from Tinks uses that thankfully fits her own hand rather nicely. As soon as Regina’s hand is settled into the slingshot, she grabs a rock from the top of the stump with her other hand and tries to position it into the slingshot. She tries to balance it between the space in the slingshot and the tip of her thumb, but the rock falls out.

 

And then she tries again.

 

And again.

 

Each time she tries, she gets the same result.

 

“This is ridiculous.” Regina starts to get up, but Tink once more takes hold of her shoulder.

 

“Try again. I’ll help this time.”

 

“Why didn’t you help before?” Regina barks.

 

Tink gives her a pointed look. “You need to use one of your mirrors to see that sneer of yours some time. Trust me: you wouldn’t dare offer help to yourself either.”

 

Regina gives her a sneer, this time well aware of its effect. Still, she compiles and crouches down behind the stump once again. Tink crouches down alongside her and shifts her fingers so that the rock stay in place this time.

 

“Now aim it a little under the can. It’ll make a bit of an arch so you lowering your aim will help you hit it,” Tink says. Regina takes a moment to align her shot accordingly with what Tink says, and when she’s ready, both she and Tink seem to know it.

 

“Finally, try to project the object of your rage onto the can. This whole thing’s emotional, kind of like magic.”

 

Hardly a second passes before Regina’s got it. She feels a fire glow in her eyes and the understanding gleam in Tink’s from the back of her head.

 

“Now fire.”

 

And she does. The rock hurdles through the clearing, practically in slow motion as it rolls around the sky. Regina feels the air go thin as she watches in anticipation of her shot.

 

Regina’s heard the sound of a perfect hit before, and while she found it crude at first, somehow, when she’s the source of it, the noise that it creates is oddly rewarding. The can, flipping twice in the process, flies over the peak of the clearing, just as it did when she first found it. She’d be lying if she said it wasn’t just a little impressive.

 

“Nice shot!” Tink cheers.

 

For a moment, Regina lets her guard slip as she beams with pride at her accomplishment. She senses the tension that’s formed over her like a dark cloud dissipate from her very being.

 

“Felt good, didn’t it?” She turns to look at Tink. Much to her expectations, Tink’s smirking.

 

“It was alright,” she attempts to dismiss, though her smile can’t seem to fully fade.

 

That’s because it was so much more than simply alright.

 

It’s takes a few moments for the shiver of endorphins that flows like a wave across her body and floods her with relief to settle down.

 

Tink shrugs, seemingly willing to play along. “Still, you have to agree: it did let off some steam. You look more relaxed than when you found me.” She then makes for the fallen rock and urges Regina to follow along. “Now come on! Help me get the can so we can go again.”

 

Regina, not ready to willingly admit that she’s wrong just yet, wants to say that there won’t nor will there ever be an “again,” but her body moves faster than her mind and before she knows it, she’s off to pick up where she remembers seeing the can propel towards.

 

And as she looks, the memory of her rock hitting the can of corn loops itself in her thoughts and a certain exhilaration swells within her heart as it continues to do so. By the time she’s found the can and meets Tink back at the point between the two stumps, the protest of further humoring this childish game feels a lot weaker.

 

Regina’s too proud to admit it outright, but when Tink waves the slingshot in her hand like a dog treat over Pongo’s head, she grants herself a little leeway.

 

“Well, I guess I can humor you a bit longer.”

 

Tink shoots her a knowing smirk, but leaves the mocking at that as she readies their game for round two.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

“So,” Tink starts. “When you were aiming the slingshot, who were you thinking about?”

 

“What do you mean?” Regina looks over at Tink. The glow of the sun radiates splatters of orange through the cloak of the trees over she and Regina as they make their way out of the woods. Tink’s words interrupt Regina’s search for her car and it takes her a moment to process them.

 

When she does though, a familiar emotion befalls her: confusion.

 

Tink answers that confusion with a smile. “Well, as I was saying earlier, when you’re playing the game, it helps to project someone onto the can. I used Blue, so I want to know what you let yours off about.”

 

A chuckle escapes from Regina’s lips, this time much more amused than when they first met up.

 

“I thought you didn’t want to talk,” she quips.

 

“I said you didn’t need to talk,” Tink elaborates, emphasizing the word ‘need’ through a combination of inflections and a pointed finger. 

  
  
“And that you didn’t want to listen,” Regina argues.

 

Tink retains her smile as she shrugs. “Yeah well, that was then and this is now. And I’m not looking for a talk – I’m just curious. It obviously wasn’t Robin and given all you did for Marian while she was frozen, I don’t think you were aiming it at her either. And you and Emma seem to be getting along better, so it’s probably not her even. So who was it?”

 

Regina contemplates what Tink says, recounting those few moments when the world surrounding her disappeared and it was just herself, her slingshot, and the can.

 

“Fate,” she finally decides on. The word, despite how vague it always feels on her lips, has a certain crispness to it as it comes out this time.

 

“Fate?”

 

“Yeah.” Regina shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you. I looked at that can and just imagined this deep dark purple vortex, and it just felt like my fate staring at me – unavoidable, dark, and determined to keep me miserable for the rest of my life.”

 

Tink, seemingly satisfied with that answer, smirks. “Then I’d say this worked out better than I could’ve imagined.”

 

“What makes you say that?”

 

“Because you just took a slingshot to fate and knocked it off its socks.” Tink’s smirk grows and, further illuminated by the darkening sun, transforms into something that Regina likely would’ve called wicked had her sister not tarnished the term.

 

“Elegant way of putting it,” Regina snarks.

 

“But not wrong, I’m guessing.”

 

Regina gives her that.

 

“Fate’s dumb,” Tink continues, settling her expression as her gaze points towards the expanse of trees. “It’s a zero sum game.”

 

“Well, how do you win it?” It’s a question Regina’s long since asked herself. It makes sense that the same person who just helped to quell her anger issues might know this secret too.

 

“See, that’s the tricky part. There’s no direct approach to winning it.”

 

“Of course there’s not,” Regina laments.

 

“Think about it. If you ignore it, you can’t prepare for it and its consequences. Just look at you and Robin.” Regina lets loose a stressed grunt, one Tink shoots a sympathetic look to her for. “If you embrace it, half the time, you end up suffering too. Just look at what happened to me.”

 

“You got your wings back.”

 

“But only after losing them in the first place and spending over thirty years in Neverland,” Tink reminds.

 

Regina nods. “Touche. So what do you suggest?”

 

“Live for those you love, spoil yourself when you can, and always have a slingshot ready to let off some steam.” Regina chuckles, but she’s not exactly satisfied with that conclusion and she knows as she does that Tink’s already figured that out. Before she can relent on how easy to read she’s become, Tink starts to speak again. “Regina, you’re a fighter. Even when I met you, you fought for what you wanted.”

 

“Even if it was wrong?”

 

“And it was,” Tink points out, not at all light on the emphasis, “but yes. You wanted to be Rumple’s student and get revenge, so you chased after that. Fortunately, you failed. And now, you want to be happy – thankfully for the right reasons this time – and you have that same determination and some friends to help you out. So yeah, you’re gonna win.”

 

Regina pauses her steps and when Tink realizes that Regina’s a bit behind her, she turns around.

 

“Did this seriously turn into another talk?” Regina reflects. There’s a mix of exasperation and hilarity in her voice and thankfully, it’s overwhelmingly the latter.

 

Tink shrugs. “It’s Storybrooke. If there’s one thing that’s inevitable, it’s that everything always leads to a talk.” Tink raises at her slingshot. “B-u-ut,” she says slyly, “we can always fight against that too, if you’re ever interested.”

 

“Well,” Regina teases, her grin unashamedly present for her friend – something she feels no apprehension calling Tink. “I guess I can make the time in my schedule.”

 

Tink grins and claps Regina’s shoulder. “Look at you,” she nudges. “Guess someone’s finally coming around to the woods after all.”

 

Regina hums on that. Tink seems to believe that it’s because they’ve finally run into her car and Regina doesn’t correct her.

 

But it’s not the case – or not fully, anyway.

 

Just as Tink said, her appreciation of the woods and her means of controlling her rage came, but just as it always was, it came in a way that was most unexpected.

 

Fate seems to have struck once again.

 

And just as Tink said, with her determination, her friends, and now a slingshot, she’ll keep on living to see what it has in store for her next.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you'd like to review and tell me what you thought, that would be swell! But either way, have a good day!


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